


Persuasive

by Sycophantism



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Origin story snippet, Slight Violence, near the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 03:24:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sycophantism/pseuds/Sycophantism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erwin gets Zackley's approval to train the stray; but now how is he going to do that without muzzling him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Persuasive

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve seen a lot of origin stories for Levi, but I wanted to do one for fun. I actually started it on a whim for a class project, but I tuned it up so I could post it.
> 
> TUMBLR LINK: http://sycfix.tumblr.com/post/64746193086/persuasive-levi-erwin

There was no doubt that he had seen hardship in his life. Misfortune had a tendency to return to those who suffered her touch early on in life, recurring until it seemed that some unworldly force was against their existence. Bad luck befell those who were least prepared to handle it, though the less superstitious would see it as it was; even the mose trivial of events could be catastrophic to anyone in a vulnerable state. This malignancy would break any who could not best it, driving weaker beings into the dust to disappear forever. Yet those who could see beyond the haze of tragedy had the potential to overcome it. Knowing that reality stood behind their misery, and not any divine sadism, was the first step towards fighting back. The world did no favours for those who would lay down and die in times of difficulty, and it was those who stood and struggled that would survive. It took a sharp mind and keen eyes to see through that kind of darkness. 

Those eyes stared up at him with only the resentment that was allowed to show through. The man was carefully controlled, even when control had been stripped from him; though seemingly helpless, there was no vulnerability there, not in his look nor the state of his condition. Only that bitter emotion creased his features, darkening those narrow eyes and setting his lips into a thin line. The way he held his head, canted down just slightly so he was looking up through the mess of his bangs, made him look like a wild animal; it cast shadows over his face that only served to convince Erwin further that he was dangerous, even when bound.

Voices spoke softly from the hall behind him, but the commander took no heed. Already he could see it had been a mistake to make eye contact, and now found himself compelled to keep his gaze locked on the other man's. For several minutes he told himself he would not be first to look away, instead driving to get the upper hand immediately by waiting the criminal out. It became increasingly obvious that this wouldn't happen. There wasn't even an indication of unease in Rivaille's eyes. It was possible he was filtering his emotions, keeping any hint of intimidation at bay. The longer he stared, the longer Erwin wondered if maybe he simply wasn't intimidated.

"Commander." He didn't hesitate to look away, letting eye contact break like it hadn't been important; like a power play had not just taken place. From his peripheral vision, he could see a twitch of expression on Rivaille's face; irritation - perhaps at having had his resolution treated so flippantly. 

"Yes?" Turning away, not fearing his back to the man, the commander kept his movements strictly casual. 

"A messenger was sent for you." A moment of silence passed while he waited for the soldier to continue. "Zackley's sent his verdict."

Often this kind of decision would be made before a court, with opposing sides making their stands before the Head of the divisions. Depending on what kind of trial it turned out to be, the sentence would vary. Civilians were rarely executed, especially among the upper class: blackmail, adultery, battery-- even the most refined of characters would submit to a craving for power or moral mischief. These kinds of things were handled by the Garrison that worked beneath the Military Police, acting more as babysitters for misbehaving juveniles than authorities dealing with lawbreakers. And while military trials were typically reserved for soldiers, exceptions were made for those who were considered an enemy of humanity; these crimes were handled by the Military Police themselves. 

There was little doubt that Rivaille met the conditions for just such an exception. Organized crime was rare within Wall Sina, and often more dangerous than if it had been found anywhere else. It took talent to elude the authorities long enough to build up a reputation amongst the underground and develop a following. It took skill to be known by them and still avoid capture. Though he was more a danger to the wealthy rather than the existence of mankind itself, there was little distinction between the two here.

Resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, Erwin followed the soldier out of the room, unsure yet of how to feel regarding the messenger that stood apprehensively outside. Shifting from foot to foot, as though more comfortable in motion that stationary as he was. An ideal kind of nature for someone with just such a job as a courier. The enevlope in his hand came up with a brisk snap of the wrist, and he took it without question.

Striking a brisk salute, the messenger hastened away, not waiting to be dismissed; he worked for Zackley, and though he knew to show respect to those of high ranking, he took no orders from them. 

Sighing silently, Erwin turned the letter over and slid his thumb underneath the seal. Typical of the Head of Divisions to stamp even this kind of paperwork, knowing it would only be passed from his own to his messenger's hands before reaching its destination. Perhaps it was habit, or a sense of duty to keep everything crisp and official.

Because he knew the knew they would ask for a military trial and attempt to have a sentence of execution passed, Erwin had gone behind the Police and requested Zackley make the decision in private. When questioned as to why, he had been honest. Nile Dawk-- commander of the Military Police and on level ranking with Erwin Smith of the Reconnaissance Corps-- would not look kindly on the proposition that Erwin intended to present. If the verdict were made behind a closed door, after both appeals had been submitted for evaluation, then there would be no need for a long-winded debate that would surely lead to discord in the court. 

_"You don't want to give him a chance to rebut you."_

_"No, sir. I simply have faith that you will know the right decision, without having to sit through his arguments."_

He had told the truth; he did believe in Zackley's ability to do his job, and that was to choose what would inevitably be best for all of humanity. And if he had been less confident, Erwin's only doubt would have lain with his own ability to know the exact same thing. However, there had been no doubt; he knew the right decision, and he had known that Zackley would as well.

With the envelope in his hands, however, he resigned himself to the possibility of his failure. Nile could have gone to Zackley and discouraged him; the Head could have a different opinion of the potential of the man cuffed in the room behind Erwin; or perhaps he had underestimated Zackley's faith in him-- this did, after all, put a lot of gravity on his own abilities. It was never safe to presume victory.

When he read that his appeal had been approved, he didn't react. Folding the letter carefully along the creased and returning it to the envelope, he said, "Rivaille has been transferred to my custody."

There was clear dissent in the officers that had stood guard over the criminal since he had been arrested. They had known what the commander of the Recon Corps had requested of Zackley, but they didn't know why, and they hadn't expected the Head to sign off on it. Just as much as Nile, they had wanted Rivaille to hang; he had caused unbearable grief to the Military Police for years, and was the biggest stain on their reputation by far. Even with this clear on their faces, they said nothing; they knew better than to doubt a commanding officer, and they didn't dare protest Zackley's decision. 

They nodded curtly, in sync, as though their thoughts had run parallel. After a moment of uncertainty, they allowed themselves to be dismissed by the commander. Saluting, they departed down the hall.

"Sir." He paused, letting his partner continue on without him before turning to face the commander. Erwin stopped in the threshold of the door, looking inquisitively to the soldier. "Be careful."

_He's bound._ Somehow, Erwin knew not to say any such thing. Somehow, he knew it didn't matter.

He nodded, to put the soldier at ease, and watched him continue walking. Turning away from the hall, he stepped into the room and pulled the door shut behind him. Grasping the key that protruded from the knob, he turned it, hearing the tumblers catch and creak into place. Rivaille's head twitched subtly towards the sound, rising until he could eye the man at the door. Pocketing the key, Erwin moved across the room, until he stood over the man.

Those eyes, staring up at him with a new flame in their depths. Erwin had little doubt today, and this time he was certain that Rivaille had heard his statement outside. Resentment had been joined by outright hatred. 

Lowering himself into a crouch, Erwin stared into those eyes; the eyes of a survivor, a fighter. Such cunning eyes, that they had saved Rivaille from wasting away in the streets. Such expressive eyes, when he lost his grip on that carefully trained control. 

He would lose that grip.

"You're my responsibility, now." 

"Lucky you." Even now, he words bled with sarcasm and apathy. The first words he had spoken to Erwin.

Though he lashed out without warning, Erwin wasn't fast enough; jerking himself backwards, Rivaille let his legs unfold and sprawl in front of him as he ducked out of the way of the hand that shot towards his face. Erwin was left grasping air, instead of the jaw he had reached for, and slowly he closed his fingers and lowered his arm. Rivaille had his back against the post he was bound to, eyes narrowed and body tense, ready to move again. He was fast.

Moving forward slowly, a calculated move, he waited until Rivaille kicked to grab his ankle. It still struck his side, and the force behind the blow surprised him, but didn't discourage him. Squeezing his fingers around the man's leg, Erwin forced it down and followed it, kneeling between Rivaille's legs. His other hand came up, reached out deliberately until his fingers brushed along the other's jaw. 

Whip-quick, the instant there was contact, Rivaille bit him. He had almost expected it, if only at the last minute. Wrenching Rivaille's foot to the side, he startled a gasp from the man and immediately drew his hand free, only to twist it around and shove it back in. His fingers and thumb dug in under Rivaille's ears, keeping his mouth parted even when he snapped his teeth down again, eyes flashing with rage. Pressing his hand forward, Erwin kept the strength behind Rivaille's bite relatively weak, his jaw strained open. 

When it became apparent the commander wasn't going to let go, Rivaille slowly losened his teeth. Experimentally, he gnawed at the bleeding skin, but could do no more damage. His jaw ached, and he glared venomously at the man that had silenced him.

"You're my responsibility now," Erwin repeated carefully, enunciating each word. He twisted his hand slowly, forcing Rivaille's jaw sideways until his head tilted with it, pain momentarily gleaming in his eyes when he initially, stubbornly, refused to follow the motion. "And so long as you act like a dog, I will treat you as a pet." Those eyes, narrowing further. "You can be my pride or my shame, Rivaille. That is up to you." Drawing his hand back, Erwin stared at him until he was safely out of range of any other bites. Rivaille didn't move. "But whether you respect me--" Standing, he kept that eye contact, leaning forward and reaching out to grasp Rivaille's hair suddenly, taking a tight grip and pulling his face up. "Or fear me--" The way Rivaille set his jaw tightly, refused to look away, clenched his fists tightly in their cuffs-- "Will be my decision." And Erwin had already decided.


End file.
